His hand
by molgor
Summary: Based on 2005 movie, what Lizzy thought about as she laid awake after Lady Catherine's visit


First of all, I want to thank everyone who wrote a review for Lizzy's Declaration. Those kind words made my day and I felt encouraged to write again. Also, I forgot to mention my disclaimer for that story and so will include it with this one—I do not own any Jane Austen character or plot.

His Hand

Lizzy laid awake as thoughts of Mr. Darcy flooded her mind. His Aunt Catherine had paid her a visit that very night, and although Lizzy had put up a defiant front, now alone in the dark, she felt only sadness. She had refused to promise Lady Catherine that she would never enter into an agreement of marriage with Mr. Darcy. As if she would get another chance, she thought to herself.

He had already asked her to accept his hand and she had refused.

True, the way he had asked her had been insulting. But later, when she'd thought on it, (and really it was all she thought of for quite awhile), she could not help but be flattered that a man of Mr. Darcy's looks and wealth would fall in love with her.

All his actions prior to the proposal started making sense to her after she knew his feelings. All those times she thought he stared at her in disapproval, he was really just admiring her.

When she and Jane were staying at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy had been a gentleman. He didn't like to be teased, yet she teased him. And then, when it was time to go, had he not handed her into the carriage? The shock of feeling his hand holding hers had jarred her for a moment, and Lizzy was not one to be jarred by anything.

At the Ball, Mr. Darcy asked her to dance. He, who by his own admission, didn't like to dance. Hadn't she told him at the Assembly, that the way to a person's heart was dancing, even if one's partner was barely tolerable? Could he have been trying to win her heart, she wondered?

Memories of him continued to pass through her mind seemingly against her will, each one bringing both realization and regret. She sighed at her stupidity.

Rosings came next. He had stood at the pianoforte listening to her play. He admitted to her there that he had trouble conversing with people he didn't know well. She told him to take his aunt's advice and practice. She thought her answer to him was most clever; that he walked away almost defeated, she felt was no small victory.

The very next day when he came to visit, was he there to practice talking to her, she wondered now? Lizzy had rendered him speechless on that occasion. As confused as she had been at that time, she was more so presently; to know why she hadn't seen his attachment to her.

She had been so prejudiced against him, she had felt no guilt over her rude remarks and clever replies. Even more so when Colonel Fitzwilliam gave his account of Mr. Darcy's role in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane. She had felt vindicated by her early distrust of the man and it made Mr. Wickham's report of the Darcy character all the more believable.

That he would confess his most ardent love for her had been quite a shock. There he stood, a man usually much in control of his emotions, and yet she could read everything he felt by the expressions on his face. Rejection, confusion, hurt, anger, jealousy. Had his feelings always been clear and she'd never noticed?

At one point, his face seemed dangerously close to her own and it had seemed he might kiss her. Propriety would have required a slap for the effort, but Lizzy had been intrigued, much to her chagrin. What would it feel like to have Mr. Darcy's strong arms around her, his lips on hers?

Presently the idea was even more intriguing but nearly as unlikely. Lizzy knew that sleep was not coming that night, and so, got up resignedly and made her way downstairs. Sitting at the table, with only a flickering lamp for a companion, Lizzy's thoughts continued to focus on Mr. Darcy.

'He offered me his hand once, if only I'd taken it', she thought to herself sadly. Somewhere between Rosings and Pemberley, and now with the knowledge of what he had done for Lydia, Lizzy had fallen in love with him. But she knew it was beyond hope that he would ever offer his hand again. Yes, he'd made honest women out of them all by forcing Wickham to marry Lydia, but he would never want to be in the same family as that scoundrel.

She willed herself to think of something else, anything else, but her mind would not agree. Every expression, action or word from Mr. Darcy played across her in snatches of memory. His entrance at the Assembly, how stuffy and stiff he looked, in contrast; his warm smiles and laughter at Pemberley. And what of his visit to the Collin's, he was so nervous. She smiled now as she thought of him, his hands moving constantly. She'd thought he end up pulling his gloves apart the way he kept twisting them in his hands. His hands...(her thoughts drifted back to a familiar subject)...how soft, yet strong his hand had been helping her into the carriage at Netherfield. How warm his hand was as he glided her along during their dance at the ball.

'That hand could've been mine, if only I'd accepted it, if only he'd ask again'.

The air in the house started to suffocate her or was it the weight of her sadness? She longed to get outside to breathe again, and walk. Walking was always the balm that soothed her spirit.She knew not where her feet were taking her, only that they were taking her away from a house full of thoughts and memories that threatened to overwhelm her. Outside she would find other things to look at, to think on.

She happened to look up and in the distance saw the figure of a man walking towards her. His walk was of a determined nature, his strides long and straight. He looked up and Lizzy knew. Her breath was audible as she realized it was him.

Was he coming for her? Would he ask her again? If he offered his hand again, she knew she would accept it.

Finally he stood before her; it looked as if he hadn't slept, either. She heard him say something about being bewitched body and soul, but honestly, Lizzy was too lost in his eyes to properly respond. He seemed to be waiting for her to answer.

Lizzy stirred from her reverie and did the only thing she knew to do, she accepted his hand by taking it, and kissing it. It felt cold, unlike those other times she'd held it and she told him. Mr. Darcy only nodded, but by the peaceful expression on his face, the way he touched her cheek and the way his eyes were taking in the whole of her face, Lizzy knew his heart was warm, if his hands were not.

All the sorrows and disappointments were erased and for them, a new day was dawning.


End file.
